


The Call of Handsome Jack

by Beautiful_Doom



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: 1920's, Brainwashing, Cults, Jack is an ancient one, Lovecraft AU, Not set in the BL world, Rhys is his devoted follower, Rhys sacrifices people to Jack, Rhys's mom was not a nice person, child abuse in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Doom/pseuds/Beautiful_Doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys is a follower of an Ancient One called Handsome Jack. Groomed from childhood to follow his master without question, and tasked with summoning Handsome Jack, Rhys is torn between his love for his master and his desire to be free. When Rhys is finally given the tools to summon Handsome Jack, he must find suitable sacrifices and complete the ritual before the cops catch up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call of Handsome Jack

The large city Pandora had an odd habit of being home to all sorts of crazy.

There were the Psychos of all shapes, sizes, and dispositions that seemed to spew several things at once in horrific order and graphic detail. Bodies that twitched and moved as if the mind that controlled them was slowly losing its grip on their bodies as well as reality. Thoughts that always centered around blood, murder, and all manner of vile depravity, but still rang out with a steely determination that made them all the more lethal. Of course they all hid behind masks, but that just made their insanity all the more recognizable, and they spread like plagues across the streets of Pandora. 

Then there were the worshippers of the Firehawk. Men and women who lit themselves on fire and praised the name of a fire goddess to bless them with fortune and riches. Horrible smogs of black smoke filled the air as they celebrated and burned the flesh off their brothers and sisters. They mostly kept to themselves, luckily. Innocents were still captured and sacrificed to a hungry fire, but for the most part they stuck with bandits and marauders. Filthy nonbelievers who could only be cleansed in the fiery bosom of the Firehawk. 

There were other cults as well. Circles of people from all walks of life who gathered to worship some deity or other, sacrificing, partying, competing, doing anything they could to appease their masters. One cultist in particular knew the importance of appeasing one's master, but he wanted to go one step further. He actually wanted to summon his. Summoning Ancient Ones was hard work. There was a very particular of doing things and if you didn't do it right, then you just wasted all your time and resources. Of course you could get it right if you managed to find the Ancient One's book, and that's what this particular cultist was looking for... 

Rhys pushed his food around on his plate as he kept looking at the clock. He was meeting someone, and they were late. The hour was late as well, the small diner Rhys was eating in was almost empty as waitresses moved around the checkered floor. Rhys's eggs and toast were reduced to mostly bits and crumbs, and his coffee had long since gone cold. Still, he sat patiently as he waited. The other would be here, he knew it. After all, Rhys had something dear to him. 

As if on cue, the door opened and the bell rang. One of the waitresses gave a greeting to the harried looking man, but he gave her no answer as he walked over to Rhys's booth and sat down. The man looked awful, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven, and his clothes were rumpled. The eyes behind his glasses were glassy and dark with bags from lack of sleep. He set a parcel on the table and Rhys looked at in interest. 

"It's there," said the man. "Cost a lot of money and corpses, but... I got it. If you've hurt her, I swear-" 

"She's fine," Rhys said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "Annoying, but fine. Here's what you'll need to get her." He set the envelope on the table, and the man gratefully reached for it. As soon as his fingers touched the paper, a knife embedded in the wood next to them. The man yelped and pulled his hand back, looking into Rhys's eyes with fear. Rhys simply smiled and pulled the knife free from the table. 

"Let this be your warning, Vaughn. I'm a busy man and I have quite the task set upon my shoulders. If I ask you for help, then you help me. Or next time your little friend Yvette will be my next sacrifice to my master," he said, idly spinning the knife in his fingers. Vaughn curled his lip in disgust. He regretted letting it get this bad. What had started as a simple case of misguided admiration had developed into this insanity. His friend Rhys had become something that he no longer recognized, and all attempts at helping him had been met with derisive laughter. 

"She was your friend too. Before you became... this," Vaughn snatched the envelope away. Inside was nothing more than a key and an address. "How could you do this to her? To me? Whatever happened to the good old days when you were... were..." 

"When I was what, Vaughn?" Rhys prompted. "Before I found my calling? Before I found my master? This is my task, Vaughn. My purpose. Nothing's going to stop me. Not now that I have this," he pulled the parcel closer to him and grinned. "But thank you for your help. I'll make sure you're among those who are blessed when he comes." 

Vaughn felt a chill run up his spine and he looked at Rhys in horror. There really was no hope for his old friend. His mind was swallowed by these horrific thoughts, and there was no saving it. Vaughn sighed and stood up. 

"Goodbye, Rhys. I really hope you change your mind while you still can," he said. 

"There's no changing it," Rhys stood as well, placing a few bills on the table, and holding the parcel under his arm. "I won't stop until I complete my purpose, and now you've handed me just what I need to complete it." His cold dark eyes regarded Vaughn before grinning yet again and thumping his friend's shoulder. "Paradise is coming, my friend. The streets will run with the blood of the wicked, and he will cradle the world in his hands while he remakes it. There is still time for you and Yvette to join me. Think about it..." he walked past a waitress who gave him a funny look and out the door. Vaughn briefly considered going after him, but the envelope was heavy in his hands. He rushed out the door to go find Yvette. 

~O~ 

Rhys locked his door behind him and head to his kitchen. Turning on the light, the room was bathed in light that revealed a normal enough kitchen, but there was a string of odd symbols that ran the length of one of the walls, and an old blood splatter still stained the table. Rhys put the parcel down and carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal... a book. But this wasn't any old book. It was very old and ragged, bound in human flesh, and emblazoned with more strange symbols and what looked like a mask on the front. 

"My master's book," Rhys whispered as he reverently ran his hand over the cover. He opened it to reveal yellowed pages full of symbols and diagrams. "This will tell me how to summon him. Finally, I will awaken our master and he bring paradise with him..." He couldn't stifle the slightly hysterical laughter that bubbled forth.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I start to read Lovecraft. But he has some really good works! Anyway, this story might get a bit gorey later on with Rhysie. Please comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
